


Breathe

by speedyvibraniumdevil



Series: Billy Russo [4]
Category: Billy Russo - Fandom, Marvel, The Punisher - Fandom
Genre: AU where he is NOT a villain, Angst, Billy comforts you and is there for you when you need him, Comfort fic, F/M, Fluff, Mild Suicidal Thoughts, good boiii Billy boiii, hope at the end, put this as mature just in case idk, this entire fic revolves around depression and anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 16:43:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17870918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/speedyvibraniumdevil/pseuds/speedyvibraniumdevil
Summary: In the midst of a big depressive episode, you begin to isolate yourself and feel helpless, but just as you think you can’t take it anymore, someone shows you just how much they care and that what you’re feeling, doesn’t make you crazy.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in the midst of a depressive episode, and usually when that happens, I put my feelings into writing. Reader insert fics have made that so much easier, so I can have my favorite characters comfort me, or anyone who reads it. This is based on my own experiences and thoughts. Read at your own risk.

There came a point where things became too much.

Sure, you lived a better life than most people. You weren’t homeless or a starving child in Africa, but still, you had your problems. Still it felt like the weight of the world was on your shoulders. 

It was an entity, and its dark and twisted claws seemed to have a tight grip around your heart, its energy like a dark fog around your brain. And even though it was invisible to the rest of the world around you, it was ever present within you.

It used to be easy to fake the happiness. To put on a fake smile and be social for just a little while until you didn’t have to anymore. But it was getting harder lately. Oftentimes you were so tired, so drained, so anxious, so apathetic, that you just couldn’t find the energy within yourself to pretend. Even though you didn’t say it, you let it show on your face.

And when people asked you if you were okay, you’d say, “I’m fine. Just tired.”

Which wasn’t a lie. It was part of the truth. You  _were_  tired. Just not in the way they might think. It was a tiredness no amount of sleep could get rid of. A tiredness no amount of caffeine or social interaction could make better.

Which made you feel helpless.

You had thought about therapy, but sessions from a good doctor were an expense you couldn’t afford right now. Besides, you had managed to convince yourself that there were worse cases, and that you didn’t actually need it as much as others did. If worse comes to worse, you’d do it.

You had also thought about talking to your friends about it, but you barely had any, and the few you did have had issues of their own, so you didn’t want to burden them or make it all about you.

And then there was Billy. Perfect, wonderful, Billy.

The two of you had started dating a few months ago, and he was probably the only person that brought you any real joy in your life. Your relationship was great. Sure there were ups and downs, but nothing major that you couldn’t work through. The dates, the gifts, the sex were all great. You had nothing to complain about.

Right?

_Right._

Which was why you never brought up your mental health to him. When he asked you if you were okay, you never told him that you on the verge of an anxiety attack because of the workload you had that week. Or the fact that a phone call you had with your parents triggered a depressive episode. Instead, you told him that work was a bitch, but you’d get over it. Or that your mom was being annoying again, but it was fine.

When you wouldn’t.

And it wasn’t.

You wished you could tell him, but you were afraid that he would think that you were too much and leave you. After all, this was the first real relationship he had in a long time, and you didn’t want to mess that up. You cared about him too much.

But you could tell that he could see that something was wrong. He wasn’t stupid. He was ex-military and was trained to notice certain details that others couldn’t. You could see that skeptical look in his eyes when you told him you were fine. Yet, he said nothing. Maybe he was giving you space or didn’t want to make you feel bad, which you appreciated.

Still, sometimes you wished that he would read your mind and just know. That he would say, “I know you’re not okay, and that’s okay.”

But how could you expect that of him if you never told him that’s what you needed?

One day, after a long two weeks of feeling numb, your brain was fried. Your mood hadn’t gone up once and it felt like it was at a point of no return. You called in sick at work when you normally never did. You stayed in bed all day, barely ate due to nausea, and ignored all texts and calls from everyone, including Billy.

As shitty as it seemed, you didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with anyone’s questions or problems. You just wanted to tune everything out. Even the things that once made you happy.

The only thing you had to eat was a banana and a cup of coffee, which didn’t work and only contributed to your anxiety.

The crazy thing? You hadn’t cried. Not once. And you just wished you would, just so you would to prove that you had emotions other than apathy. But no matter how many sad songs you played or sad thoughts filled your brain, the tears wouldn’t come.

It was weird. You were used to the emotional breakdowns, but not this.

You wanted to be free of it. Of the crushing weight in your chest, the thoughts in your brain, the lack of energy and motivation. You wanted it all to be gone and to feel like a normal human being for once.

_I have to get out of this bed._

_Water. Maybe water will help. A shower. No. A bath. A bath sounds nice. People take baths right?_

With the little strength you could muster, you threw the covers off of yourself and trudged to the bathroom. At the tub, you plugged the drain and let it fill up with warm water.

As it did so, you walked over to the sink and stared at your face in the vanity mirror. Your hair was unkempt from god knows how many hours of laying in bed. The circles and bags under your eyes were as prominent as ever. Your eyes themselves looked empty and lifeless and your skin was sallow.

 _Who are you?_  You asked yourself.  _Not anyone I know._

The trill of your phone made you jump and you looked down at it in your hand. Your thumb was ready to decline the call but you paused at the sight of Billy’s name and face on your screen. Your heart constricted even more, and you were surprised it didn’t collapse on itself.

This was the fourth call today. Part of you wanted to answer. To talk to him and to feel something, but no. You knew that if you answered he’d just ask you why you hadn’t been answering his calls and texts and you didn’t want to deal with that. Not right now. You’d call him back later. Whenever later was.

You declined the call, silenced your phone, and without even thinking twice, threw it on the floor outside the bathroom with a clatter and closed the door shut. You didn’t care whether it shattered or not. You’d deal with it later.

Right now, you needed peace and silence.

When the tub filled, you took off your clothes and slipped into the warm, borderline hot bath water. You liked it though.

With the water covering you up to your collarbones, you sat there for a couple of minutes, still feeling nothing, and you wondered why nothing magical happened. Baths were supposed to be relaxing. They were supposed to make you happier, right?

_Maybe if I sit here a little bit longer._

Seconds, maybe minutes passed, and still….nothing.

The sudden urge to submerge yourself overcame you, but the water wasn’t deep enough to your liking. _It needs to be deeper._  So, you turned on the water once again, and let the tub fill up even more.

The sound of the rushing water reminded you of a waterfall on some island you’ve never been to, which was surprisingly soothing. So much so that you had the sudden urge to close your eyes. Even for just a minute. Slowly, but surely, you started to slide deeper and deeper into the water, until your entire body and face were submerged.

You imagined yourself in the middle of the deep ocean, floating in the vast, blue void. It was terrifying, yet beautiful. And there was nothing. No noise, no people, no feelings, but peace. There were no problems, no sadness, no anxiety.

It was then that you realized that you would gladly let the ocean engulf you until you were nothing. Let fate take you. Whatever happens happens. Drowning wasn’t so bad right? Maybe a whale would come in and swallow you up. That would be nice.

You don’t know how much time you spent down there in your dark and twisted fantasy, but it must have been a long time, because before you knew it, a pair of hands were yanking you back into reality. Literally.

Beneath the water you could hear a muffled, “Jesus Christ.”

When you broke the surface, you took a huge gulp of cold air. In your daydream, you must not have noticed how much your lungs were begging for oxygen, but above the surface you knew how good it felt to breathe again.

However, some water got into your nose and you were coughing. You were hoisted up with big arms and amidst your daze, you tried to push the stranger away.

_Who the fuck is in my apartment?_

“Let me go! Put me down!” you voice was hoarse from lack of use, but still you were adamant.

“Hey, take it easy, Y/N. It’s just me.”

You stopped struggling at the sound of a voice you had grown to love. Billy? How did he get in here?

Suddenly, you were on the hard tiled floor of your bathroom with a towel being wrapped around you.

“Just breathe, baby. Are you okay?”

When you finally got the water out of your eyes and you had a clear view of him, you saw just how close he was to you. His hair, which was usually so perfectly coiffed, was was hanging over his forehead, his dress shirt and pants were drenched, and his big brown eyes were the most worried you had ever seen them. He was kneeling down on the bathroom floor, which you noticed was covered with at least an inch of water.

_Shit. Did I do that?_

He pushed some of your sopping wet hair out of your face.

“Billy, what are you doing here?”

He practically scoffed. “Well, shit, Y/N. You don’t answer my texts or my calls all day. I tried calling you at work, but they said you called in sick, so I got worried and decided to check up on you. You don’t answer the door, so I do the next logical thing an ex Marine would do and break it down. Next thing you know I find you in the bathroom, the tub overflowin’, trying to what? Drown yourself?”

You shook your head, “No, no, I wasn’t trying to drown myself.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s what it looked like to me, sweetheart.”

“No, no, I was just,” you shook your head, but then stopped, “I don’t know.”

You really weren’t sure. You weren’t trying to drown yourself, but you weren’t  _not_  trying to drown yourself. You just wanted it all to stop. 

Suddenly, you became aware of everything. Of the fact that you were naked on the wet bathroom floor, because your boyfriend had found you in your overflowing bathtub, possibly trying to drown yourself. You knew you looked like a mess, but you were often so good at hiding it, and now, it was lying bare for him to see. Literally.

Your heartbeat started to race and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Finally, tears started to fill your vision. Your chest heaved with heavy breathes and if it weren’t for the fact that you were no longer in the tub, you could’ve sworn you were actually drowning.

“Oh my god,” you said, putting your face in your hands. “I’m so sorry. I was only trying to - I didn’t mean - You must think I’m crazy. Oh God.”

This was exactly the opposite of what you wanted. Your worst nightmare.

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice took on a soothing tone, and he rested his hands on your shoulders. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re crazy. Don’t pass out on me, alright? Remember to breathe. Inhale for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight. Got it?”

You nodded, but without looking at him.

“Do it with me,” he said with the most patience you had seen in him. “In for four.”

You inhaled. 1…2…3…4.

“Hold for seven.”

1…2…3…4…5…6…7.

“Out for eight.”

1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8.

You continued that until your ragged breathes became even and your heartbeat normalized. All the while, Billy massaged the back of your neck. There must of been a pressure point there that you knew nothing about, because it worked like a charm.

After a moment of silence, he said, “Better?”

Finally, you looked up at him. The tears were long gone, but your eyes were puffy.  

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “Thank you.”

He smiled back at you, although you could still see the worry in his eyes. He pulled you in and kissed your forehead.

“What do you say we get out of this flooded bathroom, put on some new clothes, and you tell me what’s going on with you. Yeah?”

Reluctantly, you nod your head, “Okay.”

* * *

Lucky for Billy, he always kept a spare change of clothes for himself in your closet for whenever he spent the night. He threw on a t-shirt and some sweatpants and you threw on a large sweatshirt and pajama shorts.

It was so surprising how sweet he was being. Not that he was never sweet, he was, but this whole time you had sworn that he if found out about your mental illness he would’ve run far away by now. Instead, he had helped you calm down from an anxiety attack and wasn’t leaving until you explained everything to him.

The two of you sat on the couch in your living room in fresh clothes, facing each other. Your hand was in his, his thumb rubbing back and forth in reassurance, which helped, because at this point you were terrified of what you were going to admit. But you did it anyway. It was time.

You told him how you were feeling or not feeling, and how you felt broken, and you didn’t know what to do about it. You felt like you were being crushed and sometimes when you thought everything was going to be okay, it suddenly wasn’t. It wasn’t that you were unhappy with life, you had nothing to be unhappy about, but your brain said otherwise.

“I just wanted it to stop, for like a second. And a bath sounded like a good idea. Too good of an idea I guess.”

You were crying again, but this time, your breathing was even.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what was going on. I guess I was just scared, and ashamed. I didn’t want you to think I was this fragile girl who couldn’t take care of herself. I didn’t want you to think that I was too much or too crazy. Or ungrateful, because I’m not. I know that’s not who I am. I know that I can be strong, it’s just hard sometimes.”

“Baby,” Billy said as he cupped your cheek. “None of this is your fault, so you shouldn’t be ashamed. And whoever gave you the idea that I’d think you’re crazy and leave you deserves to get their ass kicked. Because I don’t and I won’t.”

You looked up at him, your eyes red rimmed. “Really?”

“Of course. If anything, _that’s_ crazy. I’d never do something fucked up like that. Besides, I get what you’re going through.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded with certainty. “It happens to the best of us. I didn’t want to say anything, but I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant lately. I just didn’t think it was any of my business, but I think I was also hoping it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I’ve seen it happen before, though. Plenty of times. It comes with the territory of having been at war.”

“I can only imagine,” you murmured somberly.

You knew Billy had nightmares sometimes, but according to him, it wasn’t as bad as what others went through. His best friends went through a hell of a lot worse. Frank, especially.

“I’ve seen brave men, strong men, face the same things you do,” he continued, “Depression, anxiety attacks, nightmares. It’s all a part of the PTSD, ya know? But it doesn’t make them any less than what they really are: Heroes. It doesn’t make them any less human. And it’s because of that, that I know what you have doesn’t make you any less of the strong, badass woman you really are. Because I’ve seen it, and even if it might feel like it’s gone, I know it’s still there.”

More tears came, but it was less about how sad you were and more about how emotional his words were making you. 

“You have no idea how good it feels to hear you say that.”

“Yeah? Well it’s true,” he said with a small smile. He rested his forehead against yours like magic it made you feel calmer. “You’re a tough girl, Y/N, and I love that about you. You remind me of someone I know. And I’m gonna tell you the same thing I’ve told that son of a bitch plenty of times: You don’t have to be tough all the time. It’s okay to take some time to yourself every once in a while.”

“I know it might seem like I like to talk about myself a lot, especially my past, but that really shouldn’t stop you from telling me about yourself. Even the shitty stuff.”

You giggled a little bit, which made him smile. He was right though. You hated when he was right, but you gave it to him.

“I know. I’ll make sure to remember that.”

“Good,” he nodded. “Or if you want to talk to someone else, that’s okay too. I know there’s groups like the VA. I’ve never been, but Curtis says it helps a lot. Or you could talk to a real therapist, a one on one typa thing.”

You shook your head, “I’ve thought about it, Bill, but I can’t afford it.”

He shrugged, “Then I’ll pay for it. Whatever you need, you don’t have to worry about it. I’ll get you the best damn therapist in town if that’s what you want.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. Was he being serious? Of course he was, it was Billy for Christ’s sake. He’d buy you diamonds every day if you didn’t tell him otherwise. But this, this gesture was different. It was so sweet, but part of you couldn’t possibly ask him to do that for you.

“Baby, you don’t have to do that for me. I couldn’t possibly-”

“Yes, you can,” he stopped you by putting an index finger to your lips,  “And I want to. You know I don’t mind spending money, especially when it comes to things like this or to you. I want to help you, Y/N. I don’t want something like this - or worse - to happen again.”

You gazed into his eyes. How was he real? Was he real? Or was this a dream? If there was ever going to be a test to see if Billy was the one, it was this. And boy did he pass it with flying colors. He had come a long way from the self absorbed CEO you met a long time ago.

You didn’t know what to say, so for the first time in what felt like days, you kissed him on the lips. Even though it didn’t work like magic and make the illness go away, you could still feel how much happier and lighter you felt after all of this. You could feel the weight start to lift, slowly.

When you were done, you hugged him around the middle and buried your face in his neck. He pulled you close and kissed the top of your head.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he whispered back. 

You let his smell and the rhythm of his breathing calm you. Then you remembered something he said.

_“I don’t want something like this - or worse - to happen again.”_

You lifted your head from his neck and craned it to look at him. Guilt started to swirl in your chest.

“I’m sorry I put you through that, Bill. I’m sorry for making you worry. I didn’t realize…” you trailed off.

You didn’t realize just how much he cared.

“I know. But don’t worry that pretty little head of yours, baby. I’m just glad you’re still breathin’.”

You kissed his jaw and he held your face in his hand to kiss you hard. 

He cancelled any and all meetings for that day. When you told him that you hadn’t eaten all day, he ordered a pizza, and even though you insisted that you weren’t that hungry, he was adamant about it and ordered it anyway. He sat with you and said that if you wanted to talk, he was there, and when you didn’t want to talk, he watched movies with you instead. He made sure you drank water in case you forgot and held you if you needed to be held.

He didn’t treat you like glass, but gave you what you needed. Even if you didn’t voice it, which you’d try to get better at.

Now, you knew….that no matter how hard it got…no matter how much you wished you could disappear…you could count that there’d be at least one person that would miss you, and that….is enough to keep you above the surface.

* * *


End file.
